Singer vs The Winchesters
by shallowz
Summary: Bobby Singer's introduction to the Winchesters.


Title: Singer vs. The Winchesters  
Characters: Bobby, John, Dean, Sam  
Warnings/Spoilers: Pre-series  
Beta thanks to erinrua, who gets what we mean even when we don't know how to write it.:) We continued to tweak it, so any 'oops' are ours.  
Disclaimer: These stories are based on the characters and premises created by Kripke and company, all of whom have our undying gratitude. They are not ours, no profit is being made, etc. This is just for fun.

--

Bobby had met many up and comin' hunters in his day. Gotten good at knowin' which ones had the stones to do the job, which ones were fated to fail, and which ones were in it for the rush. The thrill-seekers generally fell in the same category as those fated to fail, and too stupid to live. Then there were the ones that had a personal vendetta against one spook or another. They took a little longer to figure out where they fell in the hunting spectrum.

Bobby usually received two types of visitors, those that came to search through his junkyard, or those searching for information on the supernatural. In spite of the car being a classic, he wasn't getting that 'I'm here for parts' vibe, but he sure didn't know any hunter that would go 'round in a ride like that.

Uneasy, Bobby tucked a handgun in the back of his grimy jeans, and waited just off the porch.

The Impala eased to a stop, kicking up dust, screaming attitude, and demanding attention. Giving himself an internal shake, Bobby moved his thoughts away from the car and onto the driver. It was just a car and not likely to present a problem. Most cars didn't.

Most.

Driver was a man who appeared as wary of this meet as Bobby. He opened the car door (a sound Bobby wasn't going to forget anytime soon), and eased out. Tall, former military from the stance, and all six foot something of hard edges.

"You Singer?"

"Who's asking?

Tall guy seemed to take that as confirmation, and Bobby was certain his unwelcome visitor knew the answer to his identity before asking.

"What can you tell me about demons?"

Bobby felt himself bristle, much like his dogs would be doing if they were _here_.

"Like to know who'm talking to," Bobby said, gruffer than usual.

His eyes tracked the tall guy as he eased away from the car, causing Bobby to follow his movements. Quickly glancing at the vehicle, Bobby couldn't see anyone in it, not that that was a guarantee, and moved his attention back to the man who was rapidly pissing him off.

"John Winchester," he stated. No more no less, and with a sense that names were the least of what he cared about.

And didn't it figure he'd have a name of a weapon? Winchester was still moving around to the side, and that was enough. Bobby pulled out his gun.

"Winchester, you can stop moving."

He stopped, but he wasn't doing the instinctive "don't shoot me" hands. Winchester knew that wasn't a deterrent. Begrudgingly, Bobby had to give his uninvited visitor points for decent instincts.

"Tell me – yyeeaoowww…" Bobby nearly pulled the trigger at the sudden pain behind his right knee.

Sheeiii….

Reflex had him turning, reaching for the source of the pain, and clamping his hand on cloth. With a hiss, he hauled his attacker around to the side –

- a kid. A kid around seven or eight years old with the most pissed off face he had ever seen on someone that young, and was in no way intimidated by the fact that Bobby had him dangling about a foot off the ground. Wasn't even bothering to squirm his way loose, but hazel eyes glared and sparked in a freckled face.

_The kid had bit him?!_

"You put him down now." The very mildness of the request sent chills up Bobby's spine.

Turning, he wasn't at all surprised to see a pistol lined up with his nose. Didn't quite scare him as much as the small package of trouble he was holding onto.

_Huh._

Bobby eased the kid to the ground. The boy didn't move except to hold out his hand. Bobby handed over his weapon and the uneasiness soared into outright fear at the confident way the kid handled a weapon.

He'd take demons. _Any day._

Bobby also didn't bother with the "don't shoot me" hands, and met Winchester's eyes. "Yours."

Didn't miss the flash of the fatherly pride.

"Mine."

The boy moved out of reach, but didn't make a move to join his daddy. Stayed off to the right, watching.

"This ain't exactly a friendly way to collect info."

"Not exactly looking for friendly. Just information."

"Who'd you lose?"

The fleeting hollow look said it all.

"Sorry about your wife." And Bobby meant it. Maybe it was his sincerity that caused Winchester to relax his stance. Enough that Bobby knew the 'about to be killed' moment had passed. "Come inside."

The kid backed towards the car while still keeping an eye on Bobby. He glanced at John, who gave him a slight nod that seemed to mean something to him. He jogged over to his daddy and handed over Bobby's gun.

Smart kid.

It wasn't until the kid hurried back to the Impala that Bobby saw that there was another boy. A smaller one, suspicious glare aimed right at Bobby. He didn't look away until his brother opened the car door and reached in for him.

_This just kept getting better._

"It's okay, Sammy," the older one said as he gently helped the little squirt out of the car.

With one last glare at Bobby, Sammy let his brother move him about.

"Daddy?" Sammy inquired, checking in.

"Everything's fine, Sammy." John assured in a completely different tone than what Bobby had heard so far.

Thoughtfully, Bobby watched the kids a little longer before looking back to Winchester.

"Grow 'em loyal, don't ya."

The man flashed a smile that was equal parts pleased, mischievous, and all sorts of you-haven't-seen-anything-yet.

The Impala, Winchester, the kids, and missing wife and mom were slidin' together in Bobby's mind. Didn't mean he understood the situation much better, but at least weapons were not as likely to result. He suspected that dealing with Winchester, he should modify that thought to 'maybe not today'.

Deciding someone had to show trust first, Bobby turned his back and entered the house leaving the screen door propped open behind him. Dusting off old hosting skills, he headed for the kitchen to make coffee, and to see what he could dig up for kids. He recalled something about little pups always being hungry.

Hearing them troop into the house, Bobby left the kitchen. John strode in with a bag over one shoulder and carrying the younger one, while speaking softly to the older boy. Bobby's mouth quirked hearing the soft berating tone Winchester used explaining that it wasn't a good idea to sneak up on strangers with guns, and "don't do that again". He almost outright laughed at the obedient "yes, daddy", which held all innocent sincerity that he didn't believe for a minute. From the snort Winchester gave, he suspected this wasn't the only time his first-born had gotten it into his head to help Daddy. And wouldn't likely be the last.

The older kid came in toting another rough looking bag, which he set on the floor. With practiced moves, he pulled out sheets of paper and a battered box of crayons. Bobby found it slightly disconcerting to see the brightly colored wax in his book-filled room. He was certain this house hadn't seen crayons before. Least not while he had lived here.

John handed Sammy down to his brother who settled him down in front of him between his spread legs. Since that looked safe enough, Bobby returned his attention to John, gesturing him to the kitchen and waiting coffee.

Once settled at the table, both of them in such a way to watch the boys – for their own reasons - Bobby got to the point of why the Winchesters had turned his day a little more interesting.

"Demon?"

Giving a tired, grief-tinged nod, Winchester started off, "November 2nd …"

Bobby wished he could say that he hadn't heard of losses like Winchester's before. But he was a supernatural researcher and hunter for a reason. Most of the people who did this work had a reason for doing something that most people didn't know about. Or want to.

Once Bobby heard the entire story with him asking certain details during the telling, he had to agree with John's assessment that a demon was involved.

A glance into the living room showed him the boys were up and moving. He stiffened seeing the little one aiming for his books.

"Don't worry, Dean'll keep Sam from getting into anything."

And that looked like fact. Dean had a gentle, herding way of moving that let his curious sibling look but not touch.

"Hard life to bring kids into," Bobby commented, taking a sip of his third cup of coffee with a dash of the liquor from his flask. John had appreciated that touch, but Bobby noticed that he didn't take a lot of it. Careful man.

"Need to keep them safe. Wasn't until we hit the road that I stopped feeling like something was watching us. Can't live with the idea of anything doing to them what was done to Mary."

Bobby understood that. There wasn't such a thing as a _safe place_ to leave those boys. He had just met them, but he already knew that Winchester would do anything to give his boys a chance. They would never have a safe, secure upbringing, and wouldn't anyway, knowing that there were things out there that defied rational explanation. He had to give Winchester credit. Most men in his situation would have found a way to rationalize what he had gone through into some normal every day tragedy.

But Winchester wasn't going to take the chance with his sons. Bobby respected that.

"Okay, I'll get you started on what I know about demons, their ways, how to kill 'em. It's gonna take a while."

"We've no place to be."

Which Bobby translated as _no home to go back to_.

Bobby felt Winchester shut down, and the father left to check on his sons.

Peering into the living room, Bobby could see the boys settled again with Dean reading to Sammy. Dean glanced up, gave Bobby an assessing look, and then returned his attention back to the book. He hadn't stopped speaking, evidently having memorized this particular story. Sam gave him a glance and grin, apparently forgiving Bobby for his audacity to bother his father, before returning to the pictures in a book he must have seen a hundred times.

And while Bobby put together peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the kids, he tried to remember where he put the camping cots and if he had enough blankets to keep the boys warm.

_Kids, blankets, and P&J sandwiches._

He determinedly stuffed the old ache back down where it belonged and concentrated on the here and now. Teach Winchester what he needed to know, and send the family on their way.

_Don't get attached._

From the living room he heard John's low voice, followed by little boy giggles.

Bobby closed his eyes.

_Ah, hell._

**the end ... for now**


End file.
